The square and me

this is probably the longest I have not written a post on this blog. mostly cos of the mad move and the surprising absence of free wifi in cafes in Hravard sqaure. You wd imagine that in a predominantly student town all cafes wd have wireless. Even our lil village does. But no. Harvard is the land of only harvadians, so if you have a harvard pin you get to use technology, otherwise na-na. so here I am scampering from one cafe to another just to write this complaint note on my ignored blog!
last few days have been very different. i didn't really expect to live right in the middle of HS ever - i dreamt of it but never thought I really would. Yestreday decided to go for a walk at 11 pm. The city was more alive than even mornings. There was a man with his electric guitar and works playing & singing old Beatles songs, an arty looking man with a long pony tail painting no-one knows what, a group of mexicans sitting near Au-bon-pain doing nothing, and thousands of desi couple meandering around. Another thing about HS - is the huge population of desis. I've got so unused to seeing aunty-jis in saris and salwar kameezs that I get ooh aahi whenever I see one. I need to stop since every second person here is one!

space and age

I have been feeling these strange emotions about the relativity of both for a couple of days. Partly due to the disastrous apartment hunt in Boston. Till I was 17 we used to live in this tiny tiny 1 BR apartment in North delhi with a 10x10 living room and a 6X8 bedroom and a balcony we had turned into a dining space. Baba had turned the super tiny outer shed into his work space and P had made the balcony hers. Didu stayed with us for several years in that apartment, we had the usual flow of visitors, friends and family. We never felt any dearth of space. The first time I realized our home was "small" was when I saw a classmate's house featured in the magazine for hotshot homes. The realization was partly due to my tumultous age as well - I was in my early teens when everything about everyone you know is embarrassing.

Living in this tiny rural town in a big house I think I've started taking space for granted. The backyard, the front green slopes, the big woods, the wide well made roads... But then when A sees the hills and rivers and lakes in new England he says they are tiny comapred to the scale of things he is used to in California.

Getting back to my apartment hunt - we are trying to get a place in the hip happening part of Cambridge - as close to Harvard sqaure as possible. the first place I saw, near Davis square, was soo small that you barely took a step in and it was the end of the apartment. I was so alarmed that I nearly asked the broker "and where's the rest?" I mean, she was actually daring to ask for $1100 for a dark humid closet sized something? wonder what my colorful extended family back home would say to our place in Boston if they ever visit (HAHHAHA@!! that would be something). Those who brag about the 6 bathrooms in their house... mmmm. Maybe we can live in one of their bathrooms - that would probably be bigger!

To tell you the truth I started this post in a fit of inspiration a couple of days back and now have lost of train of thought so will stop rambling.

PS: Got a sublet in Harvard sqaure so pics of the "happening" place and my lonley sleeping bag in an empty big room!

Nat King Cole & Harry Belafonte - Mama Look A Boo Boo

1956 - 14 - Harry Belafonte - Jamaica Farewell

A sudden Ode to Belafonte

A friend's blog on chutney music started my day on a happy upbeat note. It also made me remember good old days when the P Family Singers (!) would yell their lungs out singing with Harry Belafonte. My personal favorite for singing along purposes used to be "Jamaica Farewell" The dance and shake-a-hip ones were many - The banana boat song being just one. And ofcourse the song and video that never fails to make me laugh "Mama Look A Boo Boo"

I wonder why nobody don't like me

Or is it the fact that I'm ugly?

I leave my whole house and home

My children don't want me no more

Bad talk inside de house dey bring

And when I talk they start to sing:

Mama, look a boo-boo they shout

Their mother tell them shut up your mout'

That is your daddy,

oh, no

My daddy can't be ugly so

Shut your mout', Go away

Mama, look at boo-boo

While locating his songs online I chanced upon this great interview Harry Belafonte Loves W! Not only does he sing, ,the man ROCKS real life as well. No Boo boo there.

PS: For some reason bloggerspot wont let me put the videos in this post so they appear seperately.

Harry Belafonte Loves W!

Everybody loves a good bomb blast

Did I say this before? Maybe I did. But everytime there is something like this - the media probably pops opens a champagne bottle or two. Who will win the goriest picture award, who will have the most number of dead in its headlines, who will manage the most heart-rending mourning family stories and the bravest survivor tales and ofcourse who will be the first to get a "letter" from a Paki terrorist (always Lashkar-e-something or the other) outfit claiming responsibility. I can never figure out why these terrorists remain quiet for a while and suddenly own up. They suddenly wake up one morning and say "Woh, let's claim it before somebody else does."? It just sounds so ridiculous to me.

I guess the era of "responsible journalism" that Baba talks about has gone with these 24 hour news channels trying to manufacture news at any cost. A bomb blasts away a few bogeys, an air plane crashes or a riot kills hundreds and the newspaper business skyrockets. So why worry about silly things like "respect for privacy of people" or giving them some mourning time. Just jump right in and probe and probe. And fill in your newspaper pages with the juiciest goriest details.

And now I feel like a heartless cheat, sitting billions of miles away, in a safe little all-white New England village, being intellectual over something that has probably paralysed lives of thousands of peopl, traumatised millions and injured hundreds. What else can I do?

PS: This one was for you Anne

Full Paisa Vasool EH??

Paisa Vasool


Well needless to say, like billions of others, I am DYING of curiosity as to what made the usually rational Zidane become a raging bull. He is NOT crazy as is very obvious from his game till now, this was his last game and probably the last thing his fans would remember of him. Why DID he do that? All I could think of was the scene from Bend it Like Bekham when Jassi gets into a fist fight with the other team player cos she called her a "Paki". what did Materazza do? Call him blackie? Well, I should not speculate without proof. They'll sue me! But whatever. It did add a lot of spice to the last bits of the game. I may not be a sportie but if I am allowed to voice my amateurish opinion (hehheh;)), I don't think a PK end is a suitable finish for a World Cup final. It's too anti-climactic. Too much depends on the reflexes of a already frazzled goal keeper. Ahh well.

PS: 2 days have gone by and, obviously, the focus of the Cup is the Head butt controversy. Conspiracy theories are floating in the blogosphere and media. Was Zizou the victim or villain? Here are some I came upon - what an Italiana lip reader has apparently deciphered, the psycho-socio explanation ala tabula and the conspiracy theories.

I say he just decided he wants to leave with a bang. Bang. So long and thanksfor all the fish.

And they lived happily ever after

The World Bank has reported that India was the 12th richest nation in 2005. Yippy yoo hoo? Reminds me of the suffocating conversations I would have to sit through with my MNC type friends back in Delhi where all they would talk about it is how GREAT our country has become (the icing was, ofcourse, when they would add that it was thanks to Atal BIhari Vajpayee- yep I have colorful friends). One of them, working in a big shit MNC, claimed that EVERYONE is so well off in India nowadays. And how did he reach that smart conclusion? Oh just look at the number of kids who can afford to drink a Rs. 50 coffee at Barista. Ahhh, you have to say at his genius observation.

I get annoyed sitting here when people commodify developing country poverty and all they can see when they visit India are the starving children, limbless beggars and cows on the street. But then are my "born and brought up" friends in India any better? They HAVE NO DAMN EXCUSE to ignore what they see every day on their face. Yet they do. And better still they do it without one bit of guilt.

So here's it for you. In pics.
Sure, this is India.















But so is this.

Mrs. Depp :)

HEE HEE HEE
This is like being 13. I love it. Watched s 12 am sneak preview of Pirates thursday night, surrounded by lots of roudy teenagers, whistling as soon as Johny came on screen, pirate-ish people serving popcorn and coke and I Love Johny. Ah well, I know you Pirate knowers would say this movie was not as good as the first and etc etc. But who cares. I love Johny.
More ranting to follow after I get back from tag sales. Till then. Here's cutie pie for you.




So I got a blender, silver ware, tons of books, lamps, pots and pans for my new house-to-be! Quite fun - esp since these rich (mostly lesbian) white women in my lil town give out almost new stuff for 1/4th the original price. But getting back to the topic of my last crush, you have to agree he is different from the rest. He is adorable without being macho, doesn't give a shit about how he looks, looks positively evil in some of his movies (like as Willy Wonka) and has this special mad thing about him.. NO? I say YO!

For you busy and unable to get sneak previews of flicks, here's my favorite scene from the movie. ENJOY :P
Big Wheel